Addicted to your story

I really enjoy watching Oprah's Lifeclass on the OWN network. I love that there is a forum for sharing and promoting the value of personal growth. Her guest/co-host was a woman named Iyanla Vanzant, a woman she has had on previous shows. In this Lifeclass Tour episode, a man named Steve shares his story of his 20+ year drug and alcohol dependency and difficult childhood. Iyanla notes that not once does Steve celebrate his intermittent sobriety, and he focuses on the despair and darkness of his past. She said to him, Who would you be without that story? She pointed out that his new addiction is his story, telling it, reinforcing the darkness, worthlessness, misery and pain. That place of pain is where he is comfortable in. When you live each day telling yourself a story that continues to feed your dark beast, how can you ever see the light?

If I were to be honest, I would write about what it was like to be the only person growing in my house that could hear. My mom, dad and sister are deaf. I was born an outsider, and despite being hard of hearing, that wasn't deaf enough for me to ever feel accepted by my father or sister. At the age of 34, I'm still an outsider who doesn't belong, and for many years I believed that, because why would my family lie to me? I avoided the deaf community from age 19-32, because I felt rejected by my family. It took me a long time to accept that two deaf people aren't all deaf people. There are still some very raw feelings around this which get rehashed every time there is a family conflict, but I am a work in progress. We are all works in progress. 

I've worked very hard to create a life that is abundant with joy and fun and compassion. But there is darkness, masquerading as sadness, lurking in my heart. It is hurtful when you are pushed away from the people who are supposed to love you. But I don't want this to be my story. I don't want to be that person who, when sitting down to meet strangers over lunch, spills out my miseries. I'd like to set that story on fire and let the ashes scatter in the wind. It doesn't really serve me, it doesn't help me move forward into greatness, happiness and true success. When I tell that story, people look at me and pity me. That isn't what I want. So I am committed to making a conscious effort to focus on a new story, one that revolves around me and how awesome I am, and how much I love being a coach and a comedian and how thankful and full of joy I am to have the people in my life that I do. 

Are you addicted to a story that weighs you down? What would happen if you told another story for a while, one that moves you forward in your journey? How can you tell your story that invigorates you? Lifts you up?

~

Jean

Articles of interest

I'll update this as I find interesting articles.

Coaching related articles
"Making the most out of coaching", Globe and Mail, November 27, 2011
"Seven Reasons Why Most Coaching Programs May Not Work For You", www.rajeshsetty.com
"Revive your New Year's Resolutions", Parade
"15 Things to Give Up In Order To Be Happy",  www.purposefairy.com

Work
"Navigating Work's Little Speed Bumps" Costco Connection, see bottom of page
"A love note to the workaholic", Washington Post, February 18, 2012


Co-Dependency
"When Helping Hurts: A Lesson on Enabling", www.thechangeblog.com


Lives that inspire me
"Shelah was here", Toronto Star, March 17, 2012
"The light has gone out of my life", Facebook post about Theodore Roosevelt


Blogs I enjoy
Gail Vaz-Oxlade, host of several shows on Slice Network in Canada

Slow cooker baked potatoes are awesome!

I tried something new in my slow cooker yesterday (I've had a passionate relationship with mine for over 15 years) and blew my mind.

My challenge is to have dinner on the table within 15 minutes of arriving home when I have to fetcheth the hubsandeth from worketh (the round trip drive is about an hour). The slow cooker is great for this. I have made many soups, stews and other dishes in it. Yesterday was the first time I'd ever made baked potatoes in it - and I'm in love, all over again.

Scrub potatoes. Pierce with fork. Drizzle with olive oil. Salt. Wrap in tin foil. Cook on low 8-10 hours or high 4-5 hours. The consistency of the red potatoes were similar to a Greek potato - not baked, but not boiled, just right. For added flavour, I'm going to try some smashed garlic and spices in the pouch, and squirt some lemon on it when it's ready to serve.

Why have I never done this before? Consider me converted to the baked potato in the slow cooker now! :)

Early Warning System: Lessons from our body

The body has its own sense of humour, if you haven't already noticed. Ever have a persistent ailment like a sore foot, an achey neck or a sore throat? Yesterday my throat started to swell up a bit, and unfortunately when I woke up this morning it was still constricted and it hurts to swallow. So I'm taking extra good care of myself today. So far, only liquids have graced my lips in an effort to be gentle.

But what is it my body is trying to tell me? That I picked up a virus while shopping? That germs linger on shopping carts and door handles? I think it goes deeper than that - I think that my sore throat is indicative of my not fully speaking my truth. There are a few areas in my life for which I have not really dealt with. One of which is the challenging relationship I have with two family members. Another area is this "being in limbo" place of living in the US, not being allowed to "affect the flow of commerce" and wanting to settle in and make permanent roots somewhere, and maybe, just maybe, open my tea room. Not being able to speak to that has, in effect, rendered me unable to use my voice at this very moment.

I don't know about you, but my body is pretty sensitive. When we are disconnected from who we are supposed to be (the person living their life with passion and joy), we become ill. During my most stressful year, I experienced anxiety attacks and cried under my desk or in the bathroom, seemingly inconsolable and hysterical. I had migraines every day. That was my body saying there is another way to be, you have to follow who you really are. When I have spoken to people who have undertaken a complete shift away from their previous profession, they often tell me about how ill they were for months and years up to the shift. Their bodies were their early warning systems that something was very wrong.

A friend of mine recently had a neck spasm torqued facing forward and was in quite a bit of pain. So I asked her, what is the universe wanting you to see that is right in front of you, right this moment? Have you heard the joke about the man waiting on his roof during a flood for a sign from God? A man in a canoe comes by to rescue him. He passes. A man in a motor boat comes by to rescue him. He passes. A man in a helicopter comes by and again, he passes. He finally drowns and when he gets to Heaven, he asks God, why didn't you send me a sign? God says, I sent a canoe, motor boat and a helicopter for you.

What is your body saying to you right now? Is that sore neck or shoulder mean you are carrying the weight of your world on your back? Is that itchy ear mean you need to listen more carefully? What is so obvious in your life that you've looked past it a hundred times? I'm curious to know if you see something a little differently. Maybe it means that you are so wrapped up in caring for other people, that your own physical health is taking the brunt and your body is saying, take better care of me and slow the heck down.

For me, my sore throat means I need to stop talking, listen more and move in the direction of having my big voice be heard. So, today I am thankful for germs for reminding me that I need to listen to my body and my heart.

The human experience

I love those days where you wake up before the alarm goes off, and despite having gone to bed late, you're ready to take on the day. Where you have clarity and purpose simultaneously. Today is one of those days. I have been reflecting on how I am doing so far this year in honouring my values and goals. I have really been enjoying taking a few minutes each evening to write in my gratitude journal the day's experiences I am thankful for. Some days gratitude comes easier than other days. The best days are those when I feel truly supported by my friends, family and coach. I feel part of a community, a network of people who wish nothing but the best for my life.

One of my personal values is community - building, nurturing and including others in an environment that supports them in being their greatest self. That's how I've tried to live my life for many years, and that is one of the reasons that coaching and I are such a great fit. I firmly believe that it takes a village to raise a child and it takes a village to create joy and happiness in our lives. Sometimes I feel like we are wandering away from the village, like lost children. I feel like "community" is being eroded, being defiled by culturally encouraged narcissism. It's every person for themselves, it seems. 

The age of narcissism has been slowly encroaching on us. In my English Literature studies, we noted the prevalence of the biography as a genre of literature. And with social media sites like Twitter and Facebook and blogging sites, we're all the stars of our own show. It wouldn't surprise me if there was a new diagnosis for people who are obsessed with the idea of fame and popularity beyond the idea of high school. Me. Me. Me. 

Of the seven billion people on this planet, someone somewhere is feeling the feeling you are right this minute. Their circumstances may not be the same, but there is someone struggling with loss, addiction, depression, relationships imploding, confusion, sadness, being overwhelmed. There is someone out there who is celebrating joy, births, marriage, a first kiss. That is what connects us. Our human experience. It is our humanity that connects us at the deepest level. And if we're to believe media messaging and cultural persuasion, we are fully sufficient human beings as individuals. You're weak if you need help. You're weak if you're imperfect. 

I veto this idea. 

From our hunter-gatherer roots, we have shared our meals, our villages, our children, our accomplishments and our losses. For such an evolved tribe, we've certainly turned into a bunch of pill-popping, drink swilling, excess shopping zombies. People don't talk to each other anymore unless it is on a computer. We're more connected (thanks to the internet) than we have ever been, but we're more disconnected, too. Discontented, too. I've had to work very hard to tap into new communities with my two recent moves from Vancouver to San Francisco to Dallas. I need to connect, face to face, to other human beings. To be part of the human experience.

I don't believe in perfection - we all have our flaws and they shape who we are. What I have found by just being vulnerable and open about who and where I am in the moment, whether it be a good day or not, there is a connection with the other human being sitting across from me. By letting my guard down, I give them permission to do the same. In that moment, I am offering compassion, support and love. We are all capable of this. We've just forgotten how. 

What I ask of you is this: if you have a friend who is in need of love and support, don't wait for the "right time" to give them support. Ask them today how they're doing, and let them know what they mean to you and that they have your support, compassion and love. Sometimes hearing that someone cares is enough to help lift them from that dark place.

And if you're in need of support, reach out. Please. You don't have to go it alone. 

We have such great capacity for love in each of us. Choose love today. 

Power of place

I am writing this post from a very cozy leather chair at a Starbucks near hubby's work. Sometimes, instead of turning around and driving back home, a 25 minute drive, I like to hang out in Dallas and have some thinking time. That thinking time occasionally looks like window shopping, reading a book or working on a blog entry or comedy material. I enjoy my time away from my home, and I find myself most productive when I am surrounded by strangers and noisy coffee machines. This has a lot to do with the current state of chaos of my office/guestroom/zen room - after 4 months, it still isn't unpacked/settled. It isn't a space I want to be in right now. And that is all about to change. 

I had a breakthrough during a call last week. My coach and I talked about my bigger vision in life, which has always related to creating a space to nurture and help people heal. In previous incarnations, that looked like a rustic retreat center that offered workshops, seminars, and all sorts of activities. I envisioned myself as a Big Momma figure, feeding people good food and feeding their souls good lovin'. That vision has changed somewhat in the past few months. Looking for a way to create my big vision now (one that isn't hampered by finances and time and space), I am very drawn to the idea of starting a tea room. 

Tea. Tea has always been an important part of my life. I love the ritual of tea, the attention paid by proper tea connoisseurs to the temperature of the water, the type of teapot, the amount of steeping of the leaves, all of that. It is the penultimate of mindfulness. And then you have it, a soothing cuppa tea that calms your soul, that connects you to spirit, that grounds you. If you're lucky, you get to share that experience with someone special. I also enjoy high tea, the dainty treats and the slow lingering enjoyment of cucumber sandwiches and scones with jam and Devonshire cream. Imagine taking an hour to enjoy such niceties and connecting with your tea companions in a meaningful way. A time out from the harried world. Tea is about you. 

I'm a firm believer that when you are ready, truly ready, and you declare this to the universe, doors will open. People will come into your life to help you create your dreams. Just 2 days after I created the intention of a tearoom in my apartment, the universe sat me next to a woman at a lunch gathering who is interested in trading coaching services for her expertise as an interior designer. She is going to help me create my tearoom space. I have a very good feeling about this room - it is my intent to create a harmonious, calming and connecting space. Maybe, just maybe, I will no longer feel as though I need a Starbucks coffee house as a space to write. 

Who knows what the tea leaves will say, at the bottom of my next cup. 

Walking a mile in someone else's shoes

What does it truly mean to walk a mile in someone else's shoes? It's a cliche we hear often enough. Are we to visualize someone's life experience, their past, present and future, and imagine what it must be like living life as them? Can we truly ever understand what it means to be someone else, even if just for a moment? What if their shoes looked really uncomfortable?

I recently met and was inspired by a woman who shared her ongoing journey of self discovery. Like me, she was a self-professed tomboy for most of her life, shying away from overtly pink and girly things. (I recall my first Christmas in my husband's family where, when asked what I'd like as a gift, I asked for a Swiss Army Knife, a coffee thermos and a robe that was any colour but pink.) She didn't want to be pigeonholed or defined by her gender. Not all girls want to play Barbie, cook or be wives or mothers. Some of them want to play Dungeons & Dragons or touch football. Even though she had steered clear of the "girly" inside for many years, she was curious about that aspect of her own life. A few years ago, she made a focused effort to embrace the feminine. In the process, she found herself empowered.

The journey to femininity meant wearing makeup, spending time on her hair, wearing more professional and feminine clothing to work and she learned how to stop worrying and to love the stiletto. At first it was a kitten heel, a short heel, to start. Once she had mastered that, the height of her heels began to grow. Prior to all of this, she never quite understood stiletto fetishists who insisted the skinnier and taller the heel, the better. Having embraced platform stilettos and mastering the walk, she understands. It is about empowerment. The owning of one's sensuality.

I admit, I prejudged her. Before sitting down and having our conversation, I felt she was trying to be someone she wasn't. I was trying to fully understand her efforts to be what I perceive as ultra feminine. As though somehow it was all about me needing to understand why she was who she was. Which, admittedly, is a very narcissistic perspective. I will also admit that I have snickered when I've seen women teetering on stilettos while walking down the streets of Vancouver. I think that makes me a bit of a jerk. Maybe my prejudice comes from a place of envy or insecurity. I am very uncomfortable in heels (and would teeter in my own right). I have felt judged on occasion for wearing my comfortable and ugly orthotic shoes by women who have more stylish footwear. And the unfortunate part is, when we're judging someone based on their shoes or clothes or hair, we're overlooking an opportunity to know who they are as people, to know what their story is.

So here I was, humbled by this woman who decided one day to fully embrace the feminine side of herself. She said something along the lines of, I knew it would be hard and that I would be uncomfortable sometimes, but it was something I needed to do to fully discover and embrace myself. She inspired me. It takes courage to push yourself out of your comfort zone and into an unknown place. Maybe for you, it means committing to writing a book this year, or challenging yourself to get onstage and share your life wih others. Maybe it means buying those sexy Manolos you've been looking at through the window and committing to strutting your stuff.

You may have blisters. Your feet may ache. But after you've walked a mile in someone else's shoes, you're a mile farther ahead than you were when you started.